


Hooks, Yarns, and Granny Squares

by orphan_account



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fluff, Knitter Stan AU, M/M, One Shot Collection, Self-Hatred, Sibling Incest, Sweater Shack AU, Teen Grunks
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 01:32:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 810
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5355956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An interconnected drabble series set in Knitter Stan AU.</p><p>Sweater Shack AU credits to <a href="http://gravity-what.tumblr.com">gravity-what</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	Hooks, Yarns, and Granny Squares

 It’s their first winter after being kicked out and Stan already dreads it coming.

 

The craft store has a brand spanking new heater, but they only turn it on during business hours. Thing is, they simply can’t afford to buy gas for the heater  _and_ the car. Even with Stan taking as many orders as possible and Ford delivering papers each morning, they’re barely scraping for food and other basic necessities.

 

At times like this, Stan’s guilt makes its presence known. If only he works harder, he can support both of them, and Ford doesn’t need to worry about anything but getting top grades at school. If only he’s not such a fag-loving freak, Pa won’t kick them out to the curb and Ford won’t have to go with him. Ford always has his back, no matter what happens. It doesn’t make Stan feel less guilty.

 

That guilt punches him again in the face when he goes to bed at night and finds Ford curling so far into himself. The flimsy blankets they have do nothing to warm them up; but it’s all they have, all they can afford to buy. They only have clothes on their back and the Stan Mobile to their name, the day they were kicked out. They’re lucky that Abby, the small old lady who owns the store, takes pity on them and offers them a place to stay above her store. Thanks to her, at least they don’t have to sleep in the car.

 

“S-Stan?”

 

“Sixer? You’re still awake?” Stan sits on the ratty bed next to his brother and drops the half-finished sweater he’s holding.

 

“I’m s-still read-d-ing”, Ford stutters, picking up his science textbook so Stan can see, but it’s clear that he’s barely awake for that.

 

He’s lying, Stan thinks. Ford is lying because he doesn’t want Stan to know that he can’t sleep thanks to the cold. It makes Stan want to break down and cry right there and then. It’s his fault his brother is in this situation. If it’s not for him, Ford will be sleeping in the warmth of their parents’ house (not home, it’s never home for Stan), not in this small storage room where almost every surface is covered with yarn.

 

But he can’t do that. Ford has done enough to have his back through all horrible things they’ve been going through. The least Stan can do is to be strong for his brother, for both of them. He can’t let Ford see how much he wants to set himself on fire if it means it’ll keep his brother warm.

 

“It’s one o'clock, knucklehead. Go sleep already”, Stan ruffles Ford’s hair. It takes all his self control not to flinch as his finger grazes Ford’s forehead; his brother’s skin feels like an ice block. Fuck.

 

“Wait up. Imma get somethin’ from the store”, he stands up from the bed. Ford mumbles something sleepily.

 

Five minutes later, Stan nearly runs upstairs, holding afghans, scarves, and sweaters from the store. He dumps them on top of his dozing brother, laughing at Ford’s surprised yelp.

 

“What–Stan?! A-are these people’s orders?” Ford picks up one sweater from the pile, a neon pink sweater so bright that’s supposed to be picked up last Thursday. “We can’t use these!”

 

“Relax, Poindexter. As long as we don’t get ‘em dirty, people won’t notice”, he settles down next to his brother. Ford rolls his eyes, but spreads one of the flowery afghans on top of them. Already his brother looks warmer, colors start to return on his freckled cheeks.

 

Stan picks up his knitting needles and resumes his knitting, an ugly brown sweater order from that old hag Mrs. Pennington. He needs to finish this one before next Sunday or else the hag won’t hear the end of it. At least she pays well, Stan reminds himself about why he took this particularly nasty customer.

 

The sound of Ford’s breathing evens out. It takes awhile for Stan to realize that his brother has fallen asleep, his face smothered in the warm knitted sweaters and scarves. Stan sets down his needles, then gently removes Ford’s glasses and pries his textbook from his fingers, setting both on top of a pile of yarn next to the bed.

 

It’s gonna be okay, Stan wants to tell his brother. They’re gonna be okay, he’ll make sure of that. If not for himself, then for the sake of his brother, his twin, because Ford is the only person he has left in the world. Outside, the first snow falls on Glass Shard Beach, but that’s okay. He’s gonna lend Ford his jacket and cook some Stancakes for his brother to eat after his rut. Then Ford is going to school and be smart while Stan will work his ass off to support them both.

 

They’ll manage somehow.


End file.
